Take Without Reason
by Marz-Alfgonzo
Summary: The story of Jack's daughter, Will's son, and their search for a treasure that may not be gold or silver. [Discontinued]
1. A Birthday Surprise

Author's Note: This is an experiment to see how people respond to my writing. I'm not sure if

I'm going to complete this story, but I know I have at least a few more chapters coming. Tell me

if you like it, and any improvements and plot bunnies are always appreciated. Oh, and I don't

own Pirates, but I do own Jack's daughter. Like most of the other authors on this site, I wish I

owned Jack...ehm, Captain Jack....but, alas, I don't. And I don't have a beta-reader, 'cause this

is the first story I've posted, so if you spot any mistakes, feel free to point them out and laugh at

them.

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_E.P.S_.:

The ship was swaying gently in the harbour water. Most of the crew had already left, taking

advantage of their time on the shore by getting stone drunk and spending their wages on wine

and women. There were only three sober men patrolling the deck, but their shift would be over

soon, and they'd soon join the others.

There was nothing remarkable about this ship. The sails were white, the crew well groomed

and seemingly respectable to an observers eye, and the captain a remarkable gentleman who

was getting along in years. She was flying merchant colours, but must have already sold her

cargo for the crew had not unloaded anything.

But the name! The stories about a ship with that name still made the townspeople shiver in

fright years after the most of the pirates in the Caribbean had been wiped out. No sane man

would willingly name his ship that, not with the rumours of the curse on the original.

The Black Pearl. A ship of legends. The tale of mutineers and ghost pirates had long haunted

this area. And it had been almost twenty years since the infamous escape of Jack Sparrow from

the fort at Port Royal.

Ahh...Jack Sparrow. Simultaneously the best and worst pirate anyone had ever heard of.

Since his escape he'd been raiding merchant ships along the coast with his cutthroat crew

and techniques that put other pirates to shame. They say that in all of his raids, and they have

been numerous, not one sailor has been killed. The Black Pearl, the ship rumoured to leave no

survivors, now had a captain who made sure that everyone was healthy before leaving with his

loot.

Pirates and the Royal Navy alike knew him as a good man.

But at the moment, that good man was banging on his daughter's cabin door and not looking

the part of a notorious pirate captain at all, but that of an irate father whose daughter was taking

too long to get ready.

"C'mon, love, it can't take ye that long to get dressed." His voice was muffled by the thick

wood door, and his daughter giggled a little at the frustration she could hear.

"Just a minute, Da. I can't find my shoes."

Elizabeth Sparrow, named after one of her father's best and most respectable female friend,

was currently trying to reach one of her shoes, which just happened to be all the way under her

bunk.

The simple muslin dress, which was well made and a birthday present from her father was

altogether too voluminous and prevented her from manoeuvring her way towards her shoe. The

corset, which had to be worn with dresses like these, was at the height of fashion, but prevented

her from bending at the waist to retrieve her shoe.

The only way to get at the shoe seemed to be if she lay flat on the floor, covering her new

dress with dust dirt and other ship-floor grime,... or to have her father get it.

Jack raised his hand to knock on the door once again, but it was not necessary for his

daughter swung it open just in time. He stood back and admired her, pride swelling up inside

him. Contrary to popular belief, Jack was a good father, and cared very deeply for his only

child.

"Well, look at you. It seems like just yesterday you were swinging from the foremast like a

proper pirate. But ye look like a well bred young lady now."

"I am a well bred young lady, despite your influence," she replied with a good-natured smile.

"And that wasn't yesterday, it was this morning."

Her hair was piled atop her head in what looked to be a very complicated sort of bun, with

tiny braids and plaits and curls making pretty patterns. The dress was a nice navy, which brought

out her bright blue eyes, and was trimmed with delicate lace at the neckline and cuffs.

He'd picked the dress out himself last week, along with three others, when he'd decided to

add to her wardrobe as a birthday present. He'd always known he had a wonderful sense of

style, after all he is Captain Jack Sparrow, but it really made itself manifest in his presents for his

daughter.

Her face was a little flushed, probably from trying to find her shoes, and a few strands of her

curly black hair had escaped from their elaborate prison and floated gently onto her face. She

could have passed for a noblewoman (and often had to in some of his insane schemes), but one

who was a little more tanned than normal...and missing one shoe.

He grinned and said, "'Tis nice to know my little girl's not all grown up, and still needs her Da

for some things..."

She smiled back and said, "Just get the shoe, Da."

He walked into her cabin and easily reached under the bunk to pull out her not-so-white-

anymore shoe. His powdered wig slipped slightly askew in the process, and she was still smiling

as she slipped her shoe on and tugged his wig back into place.

"Thank you. Could you tie my bonnet on too?"

As Jack fastened the matching bonnet under her chin, his daughter grabbed her lace fan and

tucked her pistol into a hidden holster at her waist.

He held out his arm and she tucked her hand at his elbow and allowed him to lead her out of

the cabin. As they walked on deck, she had to walk slowly and swish her skirt from side to side

to prevent it from snagging on the veritable maze of objects on deck that would ruin her new

gown or make her fall flat onto her face.

"Da? Won't you tell me where we're going?" He had refused to give her their coordinates this

entire journey and she had no idea where they were.

Jack shook his head and the trinkets that were still woven into his dreadlocks, although

hidden by the fancy wig, jingled slightly.

"It wouldn't be a very good surprise it I told ye, now would it? You'll see in a few moments,

Pearl, don't worry."

They walked down the gangplank and he helped her into the waiting carriage. As they were

driven through the town up a hill, their surroundings gradually got more and more sophisticated,

and they left the sea behind.

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Author's Note cont.: Well? What did you think? Should I continue or should I run back under

my bed and hide there for the rest of eternity? Review, or something.


	2. Fireside Chat

Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. This chapter's a bit short, but the next one

will come out soon, and hopefully be a bit longer. Once again I don't have a beta reader, so

feel free to tell me about any mistakes. This story has officially progressed beyond an

experiment. I'm pretty sure I'll finish it. And I still don't own PotC. And I'm sorry about the

spacing, but I tried to fix it for over an hour and it didn't work, so deal.

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W.W.T.:

Luck and Legends. An old run down tavern, which was a favourite loitering place for old

sea dogs who just wanted to reminisce about the good old days. And, unbeknownst to the

Royal Navy, this inconspicuous tavern was filled daily with wealthy retired pirates who wanted

to keep their booty away from the long arm of the law.

Mr. Joshamee Gibbs, who was rumoured to have been part of both the Royal Navy and

Jack Sparrow's crew during the infamous un-dead pirate adventure, was the proprietor of the

establishment, and could be seen lounging in front of the fire trading stories at this very moment.

He had also made it his duty, in the five years that he'd been living in the upstairs suite, to remind

every captain of every ship that ever set sail from the nearby harbour about all the little things

they were doing that would bring bad luck to the voyage. Every so often he also wandered

down to the shipyards to witness the construction of the newest naval and merchant vessels and

reminded the shipbuilders to slip in a silver coin under the mast for luck.

A gentle salty breeze wafted through the nearest window bringing the cool twilight air to

the few not-quite-drunk-yet patrons of the Luck and Legends who were huddled by the roaring

fire. Mr. Gibbs, who was still easily recognisable by his rather large sideburns that had recently

turned snow white, was discussing something with a frail old bearded man, who had a parrot

perched on his shoulder, and with a young man who could hardly be more than one-and-twenty.

The old man, Mr. Cotton, was seated in his usual padded gilt chair, which looked out of

place in the somewhat seedy tavern, and close to the fire. Mr. Gibbs, being one of the few

people who could understand the parrot, had taken care of the old sailor once he became too

weak to stand up on his own. The colourful parrot currently perched on Mr. Cotton's shoulder

had surprisingly survived many years beyond its natural lifespan.

The young man, William Turner the third, usually known as Bill to avoid confusion with his

father William Turner the second, was a spitting image of said father and his grandfather before

him. The only difference between the three generations, as told by Mr. Gibbs, was the lack of

facial hair on the last descendant and that Bill's hair was a little lighter than his father's.

"So Billy-me-boy," Gibbs said, "I've heard some mutual friends of ours are coming in next

week. I haven't seen those two fer almost a year now."

Nodding, Bill replied, "Yes, they should dock in three days, if Jack's on time. It was

Eliz—Pearl's birthday last week. Jack said he's bringing her here as a birthday surprise."

"Aye. And wish the lass a happy birthday from the both of us, won't you."

"Wind in yer sails. Wind in yer sails," confirmed Mr. Cotton's parrot.

"I'll bring her down here to say hello," said Bill.

"And bring her father too," Gibbs added with a smile "Even though he's only here once or

twice a year, he's one of me best customers."

At that moment, a young boy, who could scarcely be over ten, ran into the tavern in a

great hurry. He looked around the room for someone, and when his eyes fell on Mr. Gibbs, he

hurried over and said in a great hurry, "Itshere. Hegavemeashillingtotellyou."

"Calm down, boy. Take a deep breath and repeat what ye just said,...except much slower.

What's here?" Gibbs asked.

The boy followed his orders precisely, taking a huge gulp of air. His face was flushed and

he looked as if he'd run across town.

"The Black Pearl, sir. It's come early. The cap'n gave me a shilling to tell you that...And 'e

said ye'd give me another shilling when I told you." The last part was added a bit slyly, as if he

hoped to earn an extra shilling.

"When? How long ago?" Bill interjected, rising from his seat.

"It came in a few hours ago, but the cap'n only told me to tell ye a few minutes ago. He

was gettin' on a carriage with a real pretty lass. They headed up towards them high-society folk's

houses." The boy was adding information in an expectant tone, hoping for a little tip.

Upon hearing this, Bill muttered, "They're heading for my house," shoved his flagon

towards Gibbs, spilling rum on the old man's shirt, and took off running much faster than the boy

had, knocking down two drunks on his way out.

Shaking his head at the madness of today's youth, Gibbs went to help his customers up

and clean off his sopping shirt.

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Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. This chapter's a bit short, but the next one will

come out soon, and hopefully be a bit longer. Once again I don't have a beta reader, so feel free

to tell me about any mistakes. This story has officially progressed beyond an experiment. I'm

pretty sure I'll finish it.

ThePinkPanther: Yes, I'm going to continue. Is your name based on the movie or cartoon?

catpaws51784: I did read it. Yeah, the name thing is wierd. No, my birthday's not in May. It's

on October fifteenth.

moonlightstarlight: Thank you for the compliment. Love your name, by the way.


	3. Meet the Turners

Author's Note: Once again, let me start by apologising for the delay. I haven't had internet

access since my last update. I doubt you want to hear my woes and frustrations with my

computer, so I won't bore you, but just know that I've written this chapter at least seven

different times just because of saving problems. To make up for my long absence, I'm giving you

two chapters instead of just one. Aren't you proud of me? Anyway, I still don't own Pirates or

any of the original characters and I still don't have a beta reader (Any volunteers?) so point out

my mistakes. Hope you like it.

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E.S.T.:

He had changed. It wasn't obvious, but rather lurking just beneath the surface. It wasn't

just the powdered wig, although that had thrown her off for a moment before she recognised her

old friend underneath, or the fancy clothes, although they contributed to the sense of change.

Elizabeth invited them in, sent a maid to fetch her husband, led her guests into the parlour

and locked the servants out.

He'd introduced himself as Mr. Jonathon Sparrow, a business associate of her

husband's, and Elizabeth kept up the charade until they were away from prying eyes and ears.

Once safe, she hugged Jack so tightly his wig was knocked askew and hugged her goddaughter

with the same enthusiasm.

As he sat across her, with a serious look on his face that looked out of place there,

Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder over what had brought these changes to the normally

carefree pirate.

They exchanged pleasantries as she poured them a cup of tea, to keep up appearances

for the servants who were undoubtedly listening. She heard the front door open, and the next

thing she knew, her husband had barrelled through the door looking out of breath. Jack's newly

straightened wig was this time knocked off as he received a bear hug from his old friend.

Pearl was then swept up and twirled around by her excited godfather, her dress in

danger of knocking down several expensive vases. By the time everything had settled down

again, Elizabeth pulled a rope and instructed the servant, who came in at the bell's call, that they

would be having guests for the next few days, so could they please prepare the extra rooms.

With all the servants scuttling to get those rooms ready, they were fairly sure that no one

was listening now, and signalled to Jack that it was safe to say whatever he wanted now.

He glanced uneasily at his daughter, and was interrupted by the opening of the parlour

doors by another breathless blacksmith. Bill stumbled in, looking as if he'd run all the way from

the docks, and knowing her son's habits, he probably had.

Glancing around the room with a grin that threatened to crack his face in half, Bill

rushed over to the visitors. He shook Jack's hand with a hearty, although slightly absentminded,

"Hello, Uncle Jack." while his eyes rested solely on his best friend.

He moved slightly slower this time, over to the embroidered sofa, his eyes never

wavering. He held out a hand to raise her to her feet and she accepted with a nod. He twirled

her around gently, openly staring at the change in his friend.

Pearl's smile widened at his dumfounded look, and held out held out her arm, which he

tucked into his. They walked out the back door without a further word to their parents, onto the

patio that had a remarkable view of the hills and ocean beyond.

Will and Elizabeth shared a smile, knowing exactly what was going on in their son's

mind, even if he didn't. Jack stared after them, with a wistful look on his face, which he quickly

shook off when his friends looked at him.

"Now mates, you better sit down for this…"

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Author's Note cont.: It's my first cliffhanger! I have a basic plot for the story in mind, which is

amazing 'cause I usually do no planning whatsoever for anything, but I'd still like ideas and small

scenes that could be added. If you have any ideas, please tell me.


	4. Balcony View

Author's Note: Heyla! This is the second chapter I promised. It's longer than the third one and

I'm quite proud of it. I hope you like it as much as you did the last ones. I don't know how many

times I'm going to have to say this, but I don't own Pirates, no matter how much I wish I did. I'm

starting to really dislike disclaimers. But on with the chapter...

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A.L.R.:

The sun was setting over the ocean, that despicable thing, and night was descending on

Kingston. A lone girl of twenty years sat in her balcony overlooking several hills and the

sparkling blue waters of the ocean. She had several candles lit beside her as to better see her

embroidery, which just happened to be sitting on her lap untouched as she contemplated her

prospects on this godforsaken spit of land. No, not spit, it was more like a heap. A great big

barren heap with nobody important but merchant sailors and the odd Lieutenant that sailed

through every so often.

Amelia was not happy with her prospects at the moment. A girl of her age should have

been married ages ago, but she sat in her house a spinster still. There were few marriageable

men left on the island of Kingston permanently, and even fewer that she would consider

marrying.

There was Sir Dwain from a noble family no one had ever heard of. That was probably

because he was several descendants down from a bastard son of some old English king. He had

a rather large nose, which he stuck into all sorts of business that didn't concern him, and a

growing potbelly that he'd hidden under his extra large doublets for several years now.

Mr. Mullroy, although his father was an enlisted man, was an aspiring sailor and would

soon be an Ensign. He was a few years younger than Amelia, but those things didn't matter in

high society. He was a bit plump and looked as if he'd never really lost his baby fat, and he

tended to lapse into the speech of an enlisted man when he became truly passionate about

something, like his beliefs in he ghost tales of the Black Pearl his father used to tell.

Mr. Murtogg, Mr. Mullroy's best friend, was also a candidate. He did not believe his

father's tales, which was a point in his favour, but he was of a lower rank than Mr. Mullroy. He

was also so thin that you could practically see his ribs through his uniform. He was also a few

years younger, and at times seemed to have the intelligence equivalent to that of a sea star, but

Amelia could remedy that problem, by keeping him silent in all social situations.

And of course, Mr. Fenwick from the merchant's quarter simply had to be on her list.

His father had been a very minor lord from Scotland who'd married a very rich widowed

merchant's wife on his first and last visit to Kingston. He'd sired a son, and then left his wife a

considerable fortune when he died on the voyage to Scotland. Mr. Johansen himself was not

unpleasing to look at if one ignored the tufts of hair sticking out from his ears and nose and

concentrated on the money he had instead.

The last candidate on Amelia's list was certainly the best looking in her opinion, although

his parentage and employment left something to be desired. Mr. Turner, a blacksmith by trade,

who was the son of a governor's daughter and a rumoured pirate, although handsome, was not

of the best social standing. His family was rich, however, and that in Amelia's hands could be

used to buy the social standing she desired.

In fact her balcony gave her a perfect view of the Turner's patio area. She'd spent many

a night watching Mr. Turner practice his swordsmanship in that area. The fact that he'd

scandalously had his shirt off many a time only increased her fascination.

Tonight she needed a distraction from the social wreck her life was and staring at that

patio, she silently willed Mr. Turner out of his house. She was pleasantly surprised when the

back door opened and he emerged. But he was with another person. A person in a dress and

bonnet who was attached to his arm in a way that Amelia herself longed to be.

Placating her ego with the fact that this must be a cousin or distant relative did not help

for she knew that both his parents had been the only children in their families. Who was this

woman who thought that she could ruin all of Amelia's plans by taking away the only man truly

qualified to be her husband.

The two sat down on a bench beside Mrs. Turner's famous blue roses, light spilling on

them from what was probably the parlour behind them and allowing Amelia to see them clearly

in the near darkness. From what she could see, they were sitting too close together for Amelia's

peace of mind.

Their quiet conversation could not quite reach Amelia's ears, although she caught a

phrase every now and then. Things like "…missed you…" and "…it's been so long…" did not

add much to her knowledge of the mysterious girl. The girl's voice was lilting and sounded

almost like a song, which, unfortunately, Mr. Turner's deeper voice complemented quite well

even at this distance.

Mr. Turner reached up and undid the woman's bonnet and her hair cascaded about her

shoulders. Amelia was horrified to see that the girl was quite pretty and put that down as another

mark against her new enemy.

The wind shifted and carried their voices up to her, their conversation now clear.

"…really did happen? Da never gave me the specifics. He just told me that you had

survived and moved to Kingston." That was the girl's voice. She had a strange accent, cultured

yet with a tone that slightly reminded Amelia of the sea.

"Well, after a few month's off the ship, father had gotten a reputation as a great

blacksmith once more, and had enough money to sell his wares in the other islands as well. He

packed his best swords on a rented ship and invited mother and I along for the first journey. We

had hardly landed here when news of the earthquakes arrived. Port Royal had been completely

destroyed. Mother was shattered for she had lost many friends, and father had to sell the swords

he had on board for enough money to let us start a new life here…"

So the girl had asked about his escape from the destruction of Port Royal. It was widely

known on Kingston that the Turners had been extremely lucky to have all their belongings with

them on a ship far away from the earthquakes and tidal waves that destroyed Port Royal.

Mr. Turner Sr.'s reputation had preceded him by weeks, and many people had travelled

from several other islands for this sale and were more than willing to pay the high prices for

swords they knew would fit them perfectly. With the money made from that auction, the Turners

had bought one of the largest houses on the island and lived there ever since.

But they were still talking, so Amelia turned her attention back to them.

"And how are things on board, Elizabeth?"

"Not the same since you left. I've had no one to talk to besides Antoine, and all he

wants to talk about is himself. He's a wonder in battle, your father's sword lessons really

paid off, but at any other time I'd love to stay as far away from that rat as possible."

On board? Hopefully this woman was simply a merchant's daughter, or even better, a

merchant's wife. Mr. Turner must have met her on the voyage back from England.

It was known that six years after their son was born, the Turners had taken a cruise on a

merchant's ship, and, when the ship disappeared, not come back for over a decade. The general

belief was that they spent that time in England, with Mrs. Turner's relatives and away from the

disapproving eye of Governor Swann.

The rumours floating around about that trip said that they had spent the years on a pirate ship

with one of Mr. Turner Sr.'s pirate friends. But no one believed that anymore.

Amelia leaned in to listen again, but the wind had died down, and she could hear no more of

their conversation. Mrs. Turner's voice cried out from inside the house, "Bill, Pearl, come for

dinner," and they rose as one and entered the house once more.

So, the girl had two names. Was Elizabeth some sort of nickname used by Mr. Turner alone?

Why would he have a nickname for a simple merchant girl? Amelia allowed her maid to tuck her

into bed while pondering these issues.

Oh, well…she would subtly ask Mr. Turner about the girl at the party at Sir Dwain's house in

two days. Or maybe she could stop by his shop after lunch tomorrow. Yes, that would be

better, and she could invite him over for tea afterwards.

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Author's Note cont.: I didn't thank my reviewers last chapter, so I thought I'd do it now.

LoveJackSparrow: Thank you for the compliment.I actually haven't read that many JackYou fics and am now sorry that I didn't. I've always loved next generation stories.I hope you do become a regular reviewer, I'd love that.

Risika Tziporah: Thank you for reviewing. I'm glad you caught the wig thing. It was kinda mentioned in the last chapter, but only hinted at. I promise I'll explain more soon.


	5. Wake Up Call

Author's Note: So, it looks like I'm going to be starting every chapter by apologising for my lack

of updates, doesn't it? Might as well get it over with... I'msorryIhaven'tupdatedinforever. I hope

there's still someone out there reading this, or I'll feel really insane because I'm talking to myself.

Anyway, regular disclaimer applies as always. Hope you like it.

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E.P.S.:

"Elizabeth! Wake up! Come out of bed this minute you lazy…"

She stopped the annoying noise temporarily by hurling a pillow at

the man who bounced up and down at the foot of her bed. Wait a

second…man? Bed?

In the blink of an eye she slipped out of the bed, grabbed a poker

from the nearby fireplace and brandished it at the intruder. Blinking

rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes, she saw that the man had

now covered his eyes with his hand and was blushing furiously. Who…?

"Bill?" In a rush, she remembered where she was. The Turner's house,

in the spare bedroom…and that wasn't an intruder…it was her best

friend. But why was he covering his eyes?

She glanced down at herself and saw that she was only wearing her chemise

as a nightgown. Quirking an eyebrow at his expression, she said teasingly,

"What on earth is the matter, Billy?"

She wouldn't have believed it possibly, but he reddened even more and

mumbled something intelligible. Smiling, she decided to spare him his blushes

for now. After all, she had all day to tease her friend.

So, muttering quite audibly about the oddness of landlubbers, she pulled

on a robe that had been left in the room for her. Unfortunately, it belonged

to her godmother, who had a good deal less curves than she did, so it

bunched and bundled in strange places making her feel like a stuffed chicken.

"You can open your eyes now," she said, watching as Bill's now open eyes

widened in laughter at her state of half dress.

Gathering her skirts as graciously as one could in such situations, she

announced with false bravado, "I don't see why you had to close them

in the first place. When we were on the ship you saw me in breeches.

Those revealed more than this little thing ever would."

Bill had regained his composure by now, and fell back into their old

routine of teasing each other, as if they had never been separated.

"Well, back then I didn't have the manners the landlubbers have so

gracefully instilled in me now. We're pirates, remember?" Shooting her

a roguish smile, he said, "You still take forever to get ready do you?

Well, hurry it up. I've got a full day planned. We're going to see the

whole island…or at least the important parts, anyway. So come on,

lazybones, get dressed and lets go."

"Lets see these manners you're raving about. Go on, out of here, if

you want me to get dressed," she said, shooing him out with the poker.

Laughing, he ducked under the swinging rod and quickly picked up a

nearby chair. Using that as a shield while prodding it at her like a lion

tamer, Bill made his way to the fireplace, groping the walls for a weapon.

He grabbed a candlestick off the desk beside him and brandished it at her with a smile.

Elizabeth shook her head at his actions, she hadn't played around like

this in a long time. Just when she was about to respond to his feeble

swipes with the candlestick there was a knock on the door.

"Pearl? Bill? Are you two in there?" Her godmother's voice floated in.

Elizabeth dropped the poker in surprise and quickly kicked it under the

bed, ignoring the sharp pain that flared in her bare foot as she did so.

She saw that Bill had set the chair down and was sitting in it, innocently

examining the candlestick he had been brandishing only moments earlier.

"We're here, Godmama. Come in." Pearl responded, with only a slight

quaver of guilt in her voice. Her godmother entered the room with a large

grey bundle in her arms. Her expression did not waver at the guilty

expressions on the faces of the 'children' before her.

"I know Bill's planning on showing you the island today, and, knowing the

places my son frequents, it would be best if you did not wear the blue

dress you came in." she said. Pearl, considering the odd fit of the robe

she was currently wearing, was not quite sure that she wanted to wear

another garment of her godmother's. Her feelings must have shown on

her face because Elizabeth reassured her by saying, "Don't worry, dear.

This dress belongs to Lucy, the butler's daughter. She's outgrown it now

with the baby on the way, and doesn't mind you using it."

Pearl took the offered dress from her godmother and thanked her.

With a last warning to be careful, Elizabeth Turner left the guest room,

and Pearl and Bill both let out sighs of relief. When they relaxed and

believed that they hadn't been caught, Elizabeth's voice came up to

them from the stairs, "And Bill dear, please don't dent that candlestick.

Its one of my favourites."

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Author's Note Cont.: I uploaded this last week or so, but the last half wasn't up. I don't know why, so I

uploaded it again. The next chapter willcome relatively soon, I promise.

moonlitstarlight: Thank you for reviewing. Phenomenal? Really? Wow...are you sure you'e talking about me?


	6. Up on a Hilltop

Author's Note: Yes, I know that it's been ages but I'm citing writer's block for this

absence. Although, to reassure those of you who actually like reading this story, I

have already written the rough draft of the next chapter. All that's left to do is

type it up nice and prettyful. Oh, and the regular disclaimer applies to this

chapter.

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W.W.T.

The hilltop was the highest on the island. Covered in green grass and

wildflowers, it was also one of the prettiest spots in Kingston. There was entirely

too much hiking involved for the genteel folk, so they hardly came up here and it

was too far from the docks and sea for the sailors and their girls to visit. So,

despite its picturesque beauty, only a few tireless nutters, like Bill Turner, made

the trek to the top of the hill.

And of course, he made the trip very often, coming up here at least once a

week. The people walking past the hill would see a small figure on top, perched

on an outcropping of granite, who stared for many long hours at the sea. It was

his place to think, a secret place hidden in plain sight.

So, now that his best friend had come to visit, he simply had to share this

place with her. Elizabeth had muttered unkind things about dresses and

landlubbers who required them all the way up the hill, but the view from the top

had silenced even her.

Bill smiled, as she stood, speechless at the scene before her, with her dark

hair and grey dress whipping about in the wind. He watched as her blue eyes

struggled to take in everything at once, identifying the places he had already

shown her, and then sweeping back to the ocean.

"It's like being in the crow's nest…only a bit higher," she said, her voice

like a little girl's with a new toy, full of wonder and awe. "You can see

everything. And look, all the people are so small….and there's the _Pearl_."

"I come up here when I want to think. I found it in our first week on the

island. You know, I spent hours up here, at first, trying to see if you and Uncle

Jack would be coming back." Bill gave a sheepish smile.

He felt Elizabeth put a comforting hand on his arm.

"If it makes you feel any better," she said, "I sat in the crow's nest for

days and moped…and every time we passed an island, I would go looking for

you, in case you lived there."

"Well, we're both pretty pathetic pirates, aren't we? Moping around just

because we weren't going to see each other for a few years…" Bill said,

effectively shattering the dreary mood threatening the afternoon.

"Well, even pirates are entitled to a little emotion now and then."

Elizabeth responded with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Of course they are, even if they will deny it endlessly after the moment

has passed." Bill countered, starting to grin.

"Which reminds me, Da's been getting a lot of flack from the crew because

he's being to soft too openly. They think that the fear that the Black Pearl

used to cause is being counteracted by the fact that everyone survives one of his

raids."

"But they don't give you any trouble, do they? The people you pillage? I

didn't think that Uncle Jack would be soft on people who resisted his efforts."

"That's just the thing, they hardly fight back during sea battles now. And

in the last two towns we plundered, it was as though they were willing to let us

sail off with the gold as long as we didn't bother them. It's very odd."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Bill said, his arms waving a bit as he

tried to reason it out while he talked. "You've been raiding merchant ships lately,

according to the sailors' gossip, and all merchants are notoriously greedy.

There's no way that they'd willingly let their goods be stolen. And gold is

essential to every town's survival, why would they just let you have it? It doesn't

make any sense."

Elizabeth seated herself on a patch of grass shaded by a large rock,

tucking her legs and skirt under her. "Well, we are practically the only pirate

ship left in these parts, a lot of the others raid the Americas now. There are better

pickings there, especially because most of the colonists don't really have a way of

chasing down retreating ships. Maybe the towns around here give up easily

because they don't want us to …hmm, use excessive force? I don't really know. It

doesn't make much sense to me either."

Bill sat down beside her, leaning against the rock and stretching his legs in

front of him. The breeze ruffled his brown hair and rippled through the grass

beside them.

"Well, I'm sure Uncle Jack will figure it out. If he discusses it with Mum and—"

He was cut off by the rumbling of his stomach and with a short laugh he

stood up, brushing off the back of his breeches.

"I guess that means it's time for lunch," Elizabeth said as she stood up and

retied a grey bonnet over her now windswept curls.

Bill held out a hand to help her as they made their way downhill to the

lunch waiting for them at the Turner's blacksmith shop.

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Author's Note cont.: I know this wasn't much, but the story will start moving along in the next few chapters.

And I don't know what happened to the spacing in this chapter, but was being weird.

Jeanida-Myrishi:I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. As you can see, I did write more, just not very soon, sorry.

Victoria: You really think it's true to the characters? Thanks, I was worried about that

Elias Mason Mikkorey: I'm glad you got aroud to reading it and that you like it.


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